Naiveté
by petite-dreamer
Summary: Childhood is a fairytale - please don't tear the pages. Originally written for "The Dark Side of the Hog" collaboration.


_I still remember the world from the eyes of a child…

* * *

_

"Cream, time for bed!"

"Aww…"

She groans, but it is with pretend disappointment. Bedtime may mean an end to coloring or TV for the day, but she gets something even better in return.

By the time Vanilla finishes folding the laundry, her daughter has already changed into her nightgown, brushed her teeth, and slipped under the covers, anticipation evident in her huge smile.

"Story time!"

Vanilla smiles just as sweetly. "Alright. Are you sure you don't want to read from a different book tonight?"

"Yes, I'm sure – I love fairy tales!"

The beloved volume is chosen from the shelf on which it lies, and as mother, daughter, and pet Chao all gather around, the tale begins.

"Once, in a far away kingdom, there was a princess, _and she was

* * *

_

Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Tails had said so all along, but now none of them can deny it, not when she has blossomed before their very eyes – both figuratively and literally.

While Cream is upset and a little more than concerned that Cosmo is taking such a risk, she doesn't understand why everyone is so downright terrified; they've been here before, facing impossible odds - and they've always come away with miraculous victories. Sonic always saves everyone. There's no doubt in her mind that he'll do it again.

This older Cosmo looks happier than Cream has seen her during this entire journey, _the petals of the_ _open_ _white flowers swaying in an invisible wind as

* * *

_

She gathers them in giant bouquets, then settles down under a shady oak to begin her work. She's halfway through the third chain before she notices the spiral of frustration hovering over Cheese, who has formed his own pile of smaller flora. Cream frowns sympathetically as his tiny blue limbs fumble with the dandelions' stems. Grown-ups don't have the patience to make flower crowns – Chao don't have the thumbs.

"Don't worry, Cheese, I'll make one for you."

In only a minute, her skilled fingers have woven the blossoms into a miniature loop which is promptly perched on the Chao's head, the yellow dot promptly reverting to the pleased heart shape. She giggles; she's always enjoyed making others happy. She's about to return to the larger crowns when a distant blur catches her eye.

"Mister Sonic!"

By the time she's said it, he's stopped in front of her. "Heya, Cream. Whatcha doing all the way out here?"

"Making these. Hold still, okay?"

"Alright, but you'd better make it fast," he cautions as he kneels down so she can reach his head without standing on tip-toe. "Why do you give me flower crowns anyway, Cream?"

"Well, you're my friend and I want my friends to be happy. They're presents, too, for rescuing me so much."

"No problem, Cream. _You just do what

* * *

_

"You have to. There's no choice, Tails – she can't keep him immobilized forever."

He barely manages a reluctant nod, and the decision has been made. People are moving about, preparing. Their hearts aren't in it, though. That much is clear from the utter silence of the bridge and the grim expressions of its crew.

The cannon emerges from its berth, strangely unfamiliar to her. It was always a comforting friend and protector; now it intimidates, frightens her. Its mouth is guided to the ominously dark sphere before them - and the delicate cherry tree whose thin, yet sturdy roots grip it tightly.

Now Cream can feel the nervous fear coming upon her, but like the child she is, she's stubborn. They _will_ come out of this in one piece. _All_ of them.

Sonic and Shadow are moving to the cannon now, _their super forms still emitting

* * *

_

That soft glow. She never tires of watching the fire dance in a warm harmony of movement, especially on a chill autumn evening like tonight. Flicker, waver, crackle, flame, crackle, flicker. A draft from the thin crack between wallboards sweeps through the room, and she snuggles closer against her mother, a crocheted throw blanket bundling them together. Serenity at its best.

"More tea, dear?"

"Yes, please." Polite as ever. And as steaming liquid flows into an empty porcelain cup, "Thank you."

She sips, making a face when she notices the bitterness, and reaches for the forgotten cube from the sugar dish. The warm drink increases her growing drowsiness, and the Chao dozing with much contentment at her feet doesn't help. Nor does the soft melody that Vanilla has begun to sing.

The sound in the room begins to fade, _a low hum of

* * *

_

Electronics engaging, then a sudden boom as the barrel violently expels harsh yellow bullets; it collapses soon after from the stress. Two undulating paths form - the entwining waves are deceptively hypnotic, like a snake's eyes just before the fatal bite.

The impossibly slow passage of time is marked by the steadily increasing rhythm of her heart: one, pause, two, pause, three, four, pause, one two pause three four one pause two threefouronetwothree -

* * *

Contact - the target shatters into stone splinters.

Breath comes in short, painful gasps, as though she was the one who was just shot. One last feeble attempt at denial, at preserving the fairytale world she grew up in - it's not real, wake up and it will all go away, Sonic can still save…

But as the noise and light of the explosion fade, a different kind of debris falls. And the sight of the gentle rain of petals is all it takes to unleash the downpour of salty droplets slipping down her beige cheeks. She is gone, and _no one_ can bring her back.

Shut the book, Mother. I don't like this story anymore.

* * *

_Where has my heart gone?  
An uneven trade for the real world  
Oh I, I want to go back to  
Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all_


End file.
